“Actually, I’m not happy, Michelle,” I said. “I’m… disappointed.” Before she could ask why, I continued. “Text me the information and I’ll be there.”

  I pulled my phone out of my purse, remembering I had a text message to attend to. I turned as I unlocked my phone and proceeded to head out of the conference room.

  “Where are you going?” Michelle called after me. “We need to discuss this.”

  I ignored her. Instead, I clicked on my text message from an unknown number.

  I knew instantly it was my grandfather.

  Take the interview. We’ll talk then.

  Chapter 9

  “Do not take that interview.”

  The second I walked into my apartment, Jon’s voice surrounded me. I jumped, prepared to fight whoever thought it was a good idea to sneak into my place, but when I whirled around, it was Jon.

  The breath went out of me.

  I rolled my shoulders back and stepped towards the door, calmly shutting it behind me. I did not want him to see me flustered by his presence. I did not want him to see the hope in my eyes, the hope that lived there because I was constantly searching for him in crowds, in alleys, in the shadows that stained my walls at night. I missed him even though I didn’t expect him anymore, even though I thought he was gone for good.

  The thing about Jon was, he was never gone for good.

  I took in another breath, then turned around and forced an indifferent smile on my face. “I’m sorry?” I asked, brushing past him as I slid off my coat. “Who are you again? The guy who runs away from his problems.”

  “You’re not being funny,” Jon said, following me. Each step he took was practically a stomp, as though I was his prey and he was attempting to corner me somewhere he could pounce. “You need to be smart -”

  “Says the guy who comes to my apartment when you must know this will be one of the first places they check,” I said. I draped my coat over one of the dining room chairs before moving to the pantry. I needed to do something. I didn’t trust myself just to look at him, to have a conversation with him. I didn’t know if I would pounce on him or claw his eyes out.

  “Hmm.”

  “How do you even know about the interview?” I demanded to know. I stopped what I was doing and faced him, eyes narrowed. “Jon? How do you know?” He clenched his jaw but didn’t say anything. “Did you have my phone bugged?”

  “No, of course not,” Jon said, his voice tight. It was obvious he didn’t appreciate that I would accuse him of such a thing, though I wasn’t sure what he expected.

  “Then, how -” I narrowed my eyes. “My work?”

  “Your boss,” Jon said, looking away. He sighed, dropping to my dining table and resting his forearms on the surface of the table. “I’ve been keeping tabs on Beck, afraid he might…” He let his voice trail off, lips curling into a sneer. “I just don’t know what he’s up to, and I want to make sure it has nothing to do with… with you.”

  I furrowed my brow. I wanted to sit with him but I held myself back. This wasn’t a conversation where I could just forget everything that had happened between us. I didn’t want to go back to the way things used to be between us because things had changed. I needed to put barbed wire around my heart and keep him at a distance. If I didn’t, I would just be hurt again, and I refused to let myself be that foolish again.

  “Plus,” he added, almost as an afterthought, “it didn’t sit right with me that she was already opening up the paper even after what happened. I thought maybe that wasn’t on her orders, that it came from somewhere higher up.”

  “Like the mayor?”

  “Or your grandfather.”

  I pressed my lips together and turned back to the pantry. I grabbed two packets of hot chocolate powder and then stepped to my stove so I could reach up and grab a mug from my cabinet. I needed something warm just to function right now. I brought the mug back to the sink and tore the two packages open. I dumped the contents of the packets into my mug and then crinkled up the trash. The whole time, Jon sat at the dining table, quiet. Jon was always quiet, but there was something more sinister about this silence. I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  “What?” I asked finally. “What’s wrong?”

  “I just don’t understand why Beck would want you to do an interview,” he said. “It makes no sense. As much as I don’t like your grandfather, he doesn’t appear to want you dead. Was this from him, or is Ben going solo?”

  “I doubt it has anything to do with being a Were-Weapon,” I said, moving to my fridge. I grabbed my carton of milk and kicked the fridge shut. “Why are you here?”

  Even though I wasn’t facing him, I could feel him bristle at my question. If it were anyone else, I probably would have laughed. Because it was Jon, however, I didn’t. I knew he didn’t like the fact that I was treating him like I didn’t care, like nothing that had happened between us didn’t matter anymore, but I wasn’t sure what else he expected from me. He kept leaving. He kept coming back. And none of it had anything to do with me and trying to make this - whatever this was - work between us. It always had to do with his mission. His revenge. And I just didn’t want to do that anymore.

  “Don’t do that,” he said.

  I put the milk back in my fridge and placed my mug of chocolate powder and milk in the microwave. After starting it, I turned back to face Jon.

  “What?” I asked. My voice was slightly sharp, but I took in a deep breath, trying to control my temper. I didn’t want him to think he was capable of working me up the way he used to be. I didn’t want him to know that he still affected me.

  “Stop pretending like I don’t care about you,” he said, stretching his arms across the length of the table. “You know I do.”

  “You left,” I pointed out. “Again. You insisted it would be the last time, that we weren’t going to see each other again.”

  “I did.” Clenched jaw.

  “And yet, here you are.” I swept my arm out like I was one of those game show hosts.

  He arched a brow at me and I looked away, just as the microwave beeped. I was glad for the interruption. I didn’t want to revel in the fact that I had made myself look like a fool in front of Jon. And this wasn’t the first time I had done so. How was I supposed to continue to be this sexy, mysterious woman he should regret walking out on when I did awkward gestures and spilled hot chocolate on my blouse - which I hoped I wouldn’t do in front of him again.

  I turned and reached up to open my microwave, pulling out the hot chocolate. I stepped back so I could shut the door and bumped into a solid mass standing behind me. The liquid sloshed out of my cup and spilled on the blouse I definitely didn’t want to stain and was forced to set down the cup.

  I hissed. The damn drink was hot.

  I turned, ready to see what caused me to spill, only to have to crane my head back and look deeply in Jon’s dark eyes.

  I swallowed. The action was instinctive. I couldn’t help it. He was standing too close to me, closer than I expected him to. And he moved with a stealth I hadn’t expected from him. He was such a big person - imposing, overwhelming - that for him to move without making a noise...it thrilled as well as scared me. I didn’t know how else to describe it.

  He cocked his head to the side. “Your heartbeat increased,” he said. Without warning, he turned completely, slowly resting his head on my chest between my breasts. “I can hear it like someone pounding on the front door.” One hand gripped my hip. Whether that was to steady me or to steady him, I didn’t know.

  “Well, you’re in my personal space,” I said, leaning back. Unfortunately, the edge of the counter pushed into my lower back, keeping me in place. I couldn’t escape from him even if I wanted to.

  “Did you miss me?” He picked his head up and straightened, but didn’t back away. His eyes were like spotlights, pinning me in place, watching my every move.

  “Why do you care?” I asked. I hated how breathy my voice was. I hated that it revealed I wasn’t as tough as I was trying to make myself out to be.

  One hand held onto one side of the counter, the hand holding my hip released me in order to do the same. I was trapped between his arms, his shoulders hunched over, looking at me with those hooded eyes. I was trapped, but I didn’t want to escape.

  “I care.”

  Two words, simple. They should have been meaningless, but they weren’t. They were everything to me.

  “Is that why you’re here?” It was a telling question. I wasn’t sure how I wanted him to answer that.

  “What do you want me to say?” Jon asked. He didn’t move, which was a new part of this dance we seemed to repeat with each other. Usually, he put distance between us, pacing back and forth, maybe running his fingers through his cropped hair and staring off, at anything so long as it wasn’t me.

  “The truth,” I managed to get out. “I’m trying to respect what you want from me, Jon. It broke my heart, but I didn’t think I would see you again. I’m moving on with my life. But I can’t if you don’t let me. I can’t if you keep coming back. You need to let me go.”

  He clenched his teeth together so his jaw popped. I forced myself to look at him, to watch him so I could watch every single emotion that flickered across his face. Anger flashed in his eyes, but it simmered until it melted away.

  “Do you even know what you want?” I pushed.

  More silence. More flared nostrils and pressed lips.

  “I’m trying to stay away.” His voice was sandpaper, rough and bruising. It skittered across my face as he hung his head forward, his eyes on the floor beneath his feet. His forehead was so close to mine that if I moved it just so, we would be touching.

  “You’re doing a shit job of it,” I muttered.

  His canines flashed and my heart skipped a beat at the hint of a smile on his face. So rarely did he smile that when I saw him do so, I considered it nothing short of a miracle.

  “I know,” he said. “You think you’ll be able to find it in you to forgive me?”

  I swallowed. I didn’t want to answer that. I didn’t want to admit how weak he made me, how completely undone I was whenever I was around him. Every promise I made myself was broken whenever he came into the picture. Every. Damn. Time.

  “Jon…” I breathed out. This time, I did lean into him. I rested my forehead on his and forced my hands behind my back because if I didn’t, I’d be running them up and down the contours of his arms, reacquainting myself with him. It had only been a few weeks ago since I had him writing beneath me, gripping my hips like he owned me, filling me up, stretching me out.

  “Tell me yes,” he said, pulling away but only so he could trace the line of my neck with the bridge of his nose. His breath ghosted across my skin and it felt like a thin string tugging to my very core. “Tell me you forgive me. I need someone to.”

  “God forgives you,” I murmured.

  “I don’t give a shit about God,” he snarled, his teeth coming down on my skin and giving it a gentle pull.

  I clenched my teeth together, a whimper slipping through.

  “Then you should learn to forgive yourself,” I managed to get out, my breath airy.

  “How can I forgive myself if I don’t know whether you will or not?” he got out.

  I was surprised he was being so open. With Jon, it was hard for me to decipher what he was thinking most of the time. A lot of the time, I had to guess.

  “You have it backwards,” I said. “You need to forgive yourself first, then other forgiveness will come.”

  “Why won’t you forgive me?” He slowly removed one hand from my kitchen counter and coiled his fingers around my throat. It was an intimidating gesture, but I knew it wasn’t supposed to be. His thumb caressed my bottom lip, his dark gaze focused on what he was doing.

  “Because there’s nothing to forgive,” I managed to get out. I was careful how I formed the words. I don’t want to accidentally touch his thumb in a way that might imply something intimate or sexual.

  “How can you say that?” he asked, his eyes lifting until they met mine. “How many times has your affiliation with me almost gotten you killed? How many times have you put yourself at risk for me? How many times have I left you, promising never to see you again when that’s the last thing I want?”

  I let out a sigh.

  “I already know what you’re going to say,” he said. He tilted his head again, his lips ghosting over the column of my throat. Part of me didn’t think he even knew what he was doing. He was acting on pure instinct. “You’re tired of me changing my mind, flip flopping.”

  “Something like that,” I admitted. I closed my eyes as a shudder ripped down my spine. Why was my body so traitorous? Why did I always give in?

  “I don’t want to keep doing that either,” he said. “I want...I want you more than you will ever know. And I don’t think you realize just how badly I want to claim you.”

  “Claim me?” My eyes snapped open. “What does that even mean?”

  “During the new moon, I have this weird, animalistic need to just…” He let his voice trail off. “Let’s just say, I need to mark my territory.” He flinched at his diction. “And I know, that’s not the right way to say it. But it’s the truth. It’s this thing inside of me. It’s like...if I were a vampire, I would need to feed.”

  “This is your way of feeding?” I asked skeptically.

  He let out a pained sigh. “Something like that,” he said. “I leave during the new moon because I don’t want to do that to you.”

  I let out a breath, trying not to be offended. “You don’t...want me?” I asked. It was stupid. Whatever his reasoning was, he was trying to be protective of me.

  “Jesus Christ, Lara, don’t you get it?” He pulled his mouth away from my throat, wrinkling his brow as he stared at the floor. “I want you more than I should to the point where I want to make you mine. I want to Bond with you. I want to claim you. I want to do everything I can to leave my mark on you like some goddamn brand that will tell the whole world that you belong to me. And I hate myself because I am not that guy. I’m not jealous or possessive. I’m laid back. I’m open. I’m a bunch of things but you make me feel things - this beast inside of me makes me feel things that I don’t, and it just reminds me that I’m not this person and I-I-”

  “You hate it,” I finished. I pursed my lips together, trying to make sense of what Jon was saying. I picked my head up to look at him. “Which means, in some strange way, you hate me.”

  Jon growled. “No,” he said tightly. “I could never hate you.”

  “Then why won’t you let yourself be around me?” I asked. “I’ve been trying to understand, but I don’t. You say it’s to protect me, then you come back. So, I don’t get what you want from me, Jon. I want you. I love you. I want to be with you in whatever way I can have you. I don’t know how else to tell you what I want. I just don’t know what you want. Hell, I don’t know if you know what you want because you seem to want different things.”

  “You,” he got out. He dropped his hands from the counter but didn’t back off. “I want you. That hasn’t changed. I’ve wanted you since I set my eyes on you all those years ago. I just, I don’t know how…” He growled again.

  Without warning, he hit my fridge. Judging by the groan it emitted, I was sure he did some damage to it.

  “Hey!” I exclaimed. “That’s not mine! You can’t just go breaking things because you’re frustrated.”

  “You’re right.” He clenched his teeth together, gingerly cradling his right hand with his left one. “Lara, I’ve got no fucking clue what I’m doing anymore. I thought I wanted revenge, but when I got it, when I did what I needed to do, I felt... empty. Hollow. The only time I felt like myself, like the Jon I knew before all of this bullshit, was when I was with you. And I hate myself for needing you. I hate how fucking selfish I am. Because I know being with you puts you in danger. But I don’t give a shit. I would risk everything to be with you.” He picked his head up in order to lock eyes with me. “You want to know what I want? It’s you. It’s always been you.”

  We were going around and around in circles, but I didn’t care. This was the most raw, the most honest, Jon had ever been.

  I reached for him, cupped his palm in my hand, and pulled him to me until we kissed. He was mine and I was his, and this time, there was nothing getting in the way of that.

  Not even my grandfather.

  Chapter 10

  Jon’s body pressed into me, his hard body softening my own. I molded against him, not sure where he began and where I ended. He reached up to cup my cheek with his hand, tilting my head to the side so he could deepen the kiss.

  His tongue pushed past my lips. There was this intense desire for him inside of me, like he needed to taste me - all of me - as though he was worried he would forget. We hadn’t been together in a few weeks. From the way I clutched his hair, pulling the short locks as best as I could, I knew I felt the same way.

  Without warning, he ripped away from me but only to place his forehead against my own. His eyes closed, his thumb traced my jawline. It gave me the opportunity to catch my breath which was exactly what I needed. My heart hammered against my chest. I wasn’t sure if it was due to the excitement I felt at being in Jon’s life again or nervous because I worried that Jon would just break my heart again. Part of me didn’t care. Part of me wanted the pain if it meant I got the pleasure. I wanted the loneliness if it meant I got to be with Jon, even temporarily.

  I knew that made me pathetic. Hell, I would call myself pathetic. But it was still the truth.

  His lips descended down my neck, across my collarbone. There was something desperate in his kisses, something desperate in the way his teeth grazed my skin. It felt like he wanted to mark me, not because he wanted to make sure others were aware of his presence in my life, but that I would remember.

  I pulled back slowly. “What worries you?” I managed to ask.

  He dropped another kiss just above where the cut of my shirt was, right where my breasts began. I swallowed. I wanted to focus, but it was difficult to do when he touched me like that.